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A Clinical Narrative
My name is Mark, and I have been a nurse working in intensive care for 17 years. My narrative is about a patient named Morty M., whose clinical course in the ICU came to symbolize for many of us the essence of critical care nursing in its fullest, and most elemental sense.
Morty M. was a man who mistakenly consumed a large amount of aspirin, and who suffered a large-volume lower GI bleed as a result. The resulting hypotension caused acute renal failure, and a large bowel infarct, requiring surgical resection. At this stage of my nursing career I dont see too many scenes any more that I would describe this way, but truly I will not soon forget the picture he presented on coming back from the OR. His fluid resuscitation had added so much to his tissue volume that the surgeons could not close his abdominal wound - instead, it was covered with transparent, adhesive OR drape, with saline infusion lines running into the wound for continuous irrigation, and with several Salem sumps to low suction for continuous drainage. The patient was ventilated, sedated, chemically paralyzed, on multiple pressors, requiring frequent component transfusion, and on CVVH.
During his ICU course, Morty M. required no less than four more trips to the OR: to evacuate collections of fluid, and for further resection of necrotic abdominal material. He was often hypotensive, frequently losing enormous amounts of blood (measured in liters), and sometimes de-tuning dramatically while off the floor in scanner rooms. One emergent scenario described to me by one of his associate nurses involved watching the patients abdominal JP drains abruptly fill with blood, watching the blood pressure dramatically drop, requiring the quickest of reactions by the ICU nurse that had traveled with him to the interventional radiology suite. The fact that Morty survived this episode, among others like it, depended largely on the assessments, planning, and interventions of the ICU nurses that cared for him, shift after shift, day after day, week after week.
And it was in this extraordinary continuity of care that the ICU nurses really were given an opportunity to display their merits, intelligence and skill, as well as their central role in its coordination. Thinking back, I can identify at least six services whose skills were brought to bear on Morty: Nursing, Medicine, Surgery, Infectious Disease, Radiology, Nutrition - Im sure there were others. If the particular expertise of each service could be thought of as a ray of light shone upon the patient from a separate angle, trying to illuminate some aspect of his condition, then the ICU nurse should be thought of as the focussing lens through which those rays have to pass. It is after all through the hands of the nurses that all this information flows, and through which the medicines are given - through their eyes that the effects are noted from minute to minute, through their continuity of presence that the promise of careful watch is kept. There was nothing routine about this case, prolonged over the better part of two months, involving crisis after crisis, hundreds (hundreds!) of blood products transfused, hundreds of medicines given, dozens of x-rays and scans taken - no predictable course that could be followed - and the nurses never lost that focus, not once. We met every crisis with competent treatment, we used our skills and resources to nearly their every limit, shift after shift, day after day, week after week. And I was part of it. I worked with the other associates, with the doctors, with the machinery. I worked to assess, coordinate, diagnose, and treat - with my hands, my eyes, my skills.
And, he got better! Against every expectation, against every reason that came from our combined years of experience, after weeks of unbroken crises, Morty M. steadied down. His abdominal wound was closed. He started making urine. His fevers subsided. He was weaned off his pressors, he was weaned off the ventilator, weaned off his sedation. He woke up! He went to the floor! The last we heard, he was swearing up and down that hed never wanted to come to this stupid hospital in the first place, giving the floor nurses a terrible time. But what a victory that was! And all the work, and worry, and time - hell probably never know. No one outside the hospital really knows what nurses do. But we do.
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